


it's a quarter after one i'm all alone and i need you now

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 10:59:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5245781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Liam didn’t call Zayn, not in the days, weeks or months that followed him leaving the band.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>(my take on the ziam phone call)</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's a quarter after one i'm all alone and i need you now

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this at four in the morning and there are probably millions of errors, but it was the way I was feeling at the time. I'll probably end up deleting this, but I just wanted to get out how I felt about the entire 'Ziam phone call' thing.

Liam didn’t call Zayn, not in the days, weeks or months that followed him leaving the band.

It was out of loyalty to Louis mainly because as broken as Liam was, Louis needed the glue for his heart more than Liam was willing to admit he did.

So he didn’t call Zayn, Zayn didn’t call him, and his phone stayed silent for months as he tried not to break more and more as the distance between them grew.

He knew Niall and Harry were in touch with him - heard them laughing at their phones, wearing smiles they’d come to reserve for him, trying to avoid Liam and Louis when they called or he did.

But not Liam.

Liam threw himself into writing and recording, penning countless songs about the way his heart had been torn from his chest, about the way he ached everyday without his best mate beside him, songs that never made it outside of the door of his hotel rooms. He stayed up late at night with Louis, smoking and drinking and boasting about the things they wished they’d done or said.

When he and Soph finally broke things off, he had a breakdown, the end of their relationship triggering an illness that had him hospitalised for a day and forced them to cancel their concert.

But he was okay, and he told this to everyone who looked after him like they could see the cracks in him, like they knew he was about to fall apart without Zayn’s steady presence keeping him grounded.

He didn’t call Zayn - who had been the reason why he survived his last break-up - and Zayn didn’t call him, and that was okay because he didn’t need Zayn.

Sure, Louis was more above ground than Liam was used to, and often he got swept up in that, but he did not need Zayn to keep him down, to remind him that wings weren’t sprouting from his back and that not everything Louis suggested should be taken seriously, much less carried out.

Niall and Harry didn’t seem to think so, but Liam had the endlessly loyal and angry Louis on his side, who raged up like a forest fire anytime anyone mentioned Zayn’s name around him because he was a honey bear with a thorn in his heart, bleeding out slowly without his partner in crime to laugh and trade prank ideas with.

Then, one night after Liam had passed out in his own bed, feeling empty and all out of luck, his phone rang.

It wasn’t his usual ringtone, the default one for every single contact he had bar the boys, Sophia and his parents. It was a soft, crooning Jay Sean tune that Zayn had set one late night over a year ago, Liam giggling into his shoulder as he did.

Liam stared at his phone for a moment, the display a grinning selfie of Zayn that he hadn’t seen in for over half a year, shocked down to his very core.

Zayn. Zayn was calling.

Before he could think about anything else, he picked up the phone and slid his thumb over to the green answer button.

“Hello?” he answered, voice rough - from exhaustion not from emotion, he promised himself.

“Leeyum,” Zayn drawled softly, the sound of his voice making Liam bite his finger so as to hold back tears, “I was just putting an arrangement together and I couldn’t quite get it right. Would you be okay with helping me with it?”

Liam was overcome with a multitude of feelings and regrets.

Eight months, and Zayn was calling him because he couldn’t get a song right. Holy fuck.

“Sure,” he replied eventually, “Hit me.”

“Okay, sick,” Zayn breathed, “I’ve been over this about a hundred times and even though it sounds really simple, it just doesn’t -”

And Liam helped Zayn put together the chorus and the next two verses of his song, supplying lyrics and chord changes, trying to imagine that it was an ordinary session with Julien and Louis either side of him, laughing and plucking at the strings of a guitar.

But it wasn’t, so when they finished the song, silence hung in between them, Liam was lost all over again.

He wanted so desperately to roll over and touch Zayn because with his voice in his ear, it felt like he was in his bed, waiting for a cuddle like old times.

“Zayn,” Liam said finally, breaking the companionable silence that was filled with everything they both should have said long ago, “I understand why you did it.” he let out a breath, trying to prepare himself for what he was about to say, “I didn’t, not for a long time. I blamed you for leaving the band, but mostly just for leaving me. I thought you were selfish, for going away and not coming back, but I understand why you did it now. I don’t blame you anymore. I am so proud of you for doing what you’re doing. It’s something I would never have the guts to do.”

“Thanks Liam,” there was a tell-tale wobble to Zayn’s voice that made Liam bite his lip, “I thought you hated me,” he let out a forced chuckle, “Can you imagine? But it was what I was afraid of more than anything. ’S why I didn’t call earlier. I guess I thought that you’d still be mad at me for leaving.”

Liam laughed, a little hollowly, “I love you mate. I could never be too mad at you for very long. Told you that when we were seventeen, and though tonnes of shit has changed since then, that hasn’t.”

“I love you too,” Zayn whispered, “And I missed you.”

Liam closed his eyes, refusing to cry over his best mate admitting that he missed him because he was not that person.

He was not.

“Me too, Zee.” he cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the fact that he wouldn’t see Zayn in person for months even if they’d made up now, “I was just wondering - if I butter him up loads, would you be willing to give Tommo a ring? I don’t want to be like Niall and Harry - sneaking around him so I can talk to you properly.”

Zayn let out a dry laugh, “Now I’m _sure_ that bastard hates me,” he sighed, “There’s no fixing that bridge, Leeyum. We’re both too proud to call, and even if one of us did, we’d be too proud to apologise to each other for the things we’ve said.”

“We fixed our bridge, Zayn.” Liam pointed out, “What’s stopping you from talking and fixing things with Tommo?”

“I don’t love Tommo, Leeyum, not anymore.” Zayn’s voice was quiet but sure, stunning Liam momentarily.

Silence hung between them once more, Liam struggling to collect his thoughts and rationalise with himself, trying to figure out how he could figure out how to fix the broken relationship.  _Of course Zayn still loved Louis_ , he reasoned, _he was just upset about everything that had gone on. There was no way five years of friendship could crumble to nothing in eight months._

“Anyway, it’s three in the morning where you are, so I’ll let you go,” Zayn interrupted Liam’s train of thought, “Let you get some sleep, eh?”

“Yeah.” Liam glanced over to his alarm clock, only a little surprised that he’d been on the phone with Zayn for over four hours now, “I’m sure you’re dying for a break from my rambling,” he joked playfully, a hint of anxiety colouring his words.

“Not so much,” Zayn coughed a little sheepishly, “Haven’t talked to my best mate in eight months, and when I got him on the phone, I spent three and a half hours talking about a song. Kinda miss him.”

That made Liam squeeze his eyes shut, a new wave of emotion sweeping over him because Zayn missed him too, “I’ll figure out our different time zones then we can Skype. We’ll text in the meantime, yeah?”

“Sounds like a deal, Leeyum.” Liam could picture Zayn grinning softly, all wrinkled clothes and sleepy lines, surrounded by crumpled up sheets of paper with lyrics and notes scrawled on them messily.

“G’night Zee,” Liam said softly, wishing he could be there, beside him, grounding Zayn in the way he did for him for so many years.

“’Night babe.”

When Liam shut his eyes, it was with a smile on his face, his shoulders free of the weight that had been pressing down on him for eight months. He had his best mate back.


End file.
